So, remember when I was living in New York City and studying gemology? Yeah, me too. One of my favorite phases of life. Ever. I miss the city a lot and the gemstones even more. Studying them, identifying them, subjecting my Instagram followers to pictures of them. Of course, the great thing about now working for a gemology institute is that my building is not in want of gemstone displays. They are, quite frankly, everywhere. And not just the laboratory area either (where, for example, just this week I was able to meet one of the gemologists who graded the Hope Diamond), but lining pretty much every hallway, too.

Most of the pieces I've seen now, through my various explorations of the building, but every now and then I come across one that has somehow snuck past me. Like this opal stunner that literally stopped me cold. I mean, just freaking look at it! And I'm not even an opal girl. Trust me, as a gemologist, I have my favorites--diamond because it's the BEST, star corundum for the asterism, rhodochrosite because it's so unique, turquoise and aquamarine for their beautiful blues--but opals have never moved me. Until this necklace, that is. Maybe it just takes 148 carats to get me there, but either way, this was a happy way to officially ring in the month that boasts opal as its birthstone. Happy October, everyone!

Reader Roxayn submitted a jewelry story, and I loved it so much that I wanted to share it. I always love hearing from readers, so if you have a jewelry story of your own, send it in!! Remember that you get a free book if yours gets selected for the blog.

I remember as a young, almost teenager wearing rings, bracelets, necklaces adorned with turquoise. I loved it. And then I didn't. I hid them away in a corner of a jewelry box embarrassed by my passion for turquoise. I switched to all things sparkling and gold. Fast forward a few decades through dozens of glittering earrings, jeweled necklaces, and bangled bracelets. Imagine my distress when I realized my cute, darling daughter's birthstone was not glittery or faceted as her name, Jewel, would suggest. My Jewel had a birthstone of turquoise. It didn't sparkle like her princess tiaras or her glitter splashed tutus. Flat, lumpy turquoise seemed to be such a misfit among the other jeweled celebrations of birth—and totally inadequate to celebrate my Jewel. I said as little as possible about birthstones.

I love to make jewelry. I found a necklace I really wanted to make—and Jewel, now a tween, asked if she could make one too. We went on a shopping excursion to find just the right beads. As we gazed at the variety of sparkling, dazzling beads, I wondered how she would choose which pink ones to use. "Momma, don't you just love these?" As I turned to see her selection, shock hit. You can guess what she chose—turquoise beads. "Yes," I said, trying to hide my surprise. "They will look so pretty, and did you know that turquoise is my birthstone?" she asked. I did know. And as we chatted and laughed all through the creative process, I came to know—through her eyes—just how beautiful turquoise can be. She loved it because it was her birthstone, and for me, it became beautiful in her hands.

Reader Roxayn submitted a jewelry story, and I loved it so much that I wanted to share it. I always love hearing from readers, so if you have a jewelry story of your own, send it in!! Remember that you get a free book if yours gets selected for the blog.

I remember as a young, almost teenager wearing rings, bracelets, necklaces adorned with turquoise. I loved it. And then I didn't. I hid them away in a corner of a jewelry box embarrassed by my passion for turquoise. I switched to all things sparkling and gold. Fast forward a few decades through dozens of glittering earrings, jeweled necklaces, and bangled bracelets. Imagine my distress when I realized my cute, darling daughter's birthstone was not glittery or faceted as her name, Jewel, would suggest. My Jewel had a birthstone of turquoise. It didn't sparkle like her princess tiaras or her glitter splashed tutus. Flat, lumpy turquoise seemed to be such a misfit among the other jeweled celebrations of birth—and totally inadequate to celebrate my Jewel. I said as little as possible about birthstones.

I love to make jewelry. I found a necklace I really wanted to make—and Jewel, now a tween, asked if she could make one too. We went on a shopping excursion to find just the right beads. As we gazed at the variety of sparkling, dazzling beads, I wondered how she would choose which pink ones to use. "Momma, don't you just love these?" As I turned to see her selection, shock hit. You can guess what she chose—turquoise beads. "Yes," I said, trying to hide my surprise. "They will look so pretty, and did you know that turquoise is my birthstone?" she asked. I did know. And as we chatted and laughed all through the creative process, I came to know—through her eyes—just how beautiful turquoise can be. She loved it because it was her birthstone, and for me, it became beautiful in her hands.